Shards of Dreams

I looked miserably at my feet, wondering how I’d gotten into this mess. How had I become a girl who lurks in the shadows for her own safety, who regards her life and finds broken promises littering the scene with shards of dreams, shattered under the hefty weight of responsibility, secrets, and lies...

Jaylen Neuf is a normal sixteen year old girl with a passion for skiing- or, at least that's what she thinks before the March break of 2014. Of course it never occurred to her that she would take part in a terrifying game that gives her the power to save, or destroy, the world.
Jaylen and her new found friends struggle to escape death and destruction, attempting to stay out of the Agency's way. This extraordinary tale tells of sly deceit, heartbreaking betrayal, and undying loyalty.
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My
warm breath puffed out in front of me, slithering fluidly into
the clear, sharp mountain air and obscuring the exquisite
landscape sprawled out before me with a dense, foggy white. The
coolness of the air as it rushed into my lungs was exhilarating,
urging me to escape out to the crystalline white slopes as soon
as possible.

I paused, holding my breath as a precautionary measure
as I surveyed the towering mountains before me. They were both
welcoming and intimidating, looming over me and casting me into
constant shadow. Their peaks were jagged and uneven, often
revealing rocky crags and irregular ravines, all surrounded by
perfectly skiable runs. They beckoned to me, pulling me forward
into their mysterious and unexplored realm. An airy, exuberant
laugh burst forth from my lips, unbidden, but welcome all the
same.

A sharp tap on my shoulder revealed that I was not the
only one marveling at the mountains. I smiled, not bothering to
turn around.

"Hey, Viola!" I greeted my best friend, gesturing to
her with a wave of my hand. I heard her let out a small giggle,
as bouncy as her tightly wound chestnut curls.

"Well, someone's eager to make first-tracks," she told
me cheekily, flouncing away off the ornate black balcony and into
the quaint kitchen to eat an apple before hitting the
slopes.

"Well, anyone with half a brain cell wants to make
first-tracks. Anyone who doesn't has some serious
problems.

Viola stood in the kitchen, her long, lanky frame
slumped with sleeplessness. Her glossy, chestnut hair sat in a
heaping mess, curled into a sloppy bun on the nape of her neck.
Her large blue-green eyes laughed at me, and I could see she was
already dressed in her purple snow pants, along with her typical
other layers, and loosely done black ski boots.

I walked over to her and patted her head in praise.
"Good girl!" I told her, pleased. Viola yawned, stirring what I
guessed was a triple-triple.

"Yeah, I knew you'd be up and ready before the rest of
us normal people considered it to be legal," she teased me,
smiling brightly. I grinned sheepishly, glancing down at my
already clad body, ready to step onto the mountains. Skiing and
sleeping were the only times I ever took off my short and
unbelievably comfortable cowboy boots.

"I'm not going to apologize! Ilike
it early. And hurry up, we need to get to the top of the mountain
before the lifts open," I urge her, pacing restlessly.

Viola turned away from her coffee to fix me with an
incredulous stare. "All
the way to the top?" she said doubtfully.

"Uh, no, you know what I mean." I shake my head,
turning away. "But do hurry up!" I added pointedly as she took a
sip of her hot morning drink. After a resigned sigh, Viola
chugged her coffee back and tossed the soft blue mug carelessly
into the sink, not bothering to wash it.

We hurried down the battered wooden stairs that led to
the main lobby, taking extra care not to make too much noise,
although we probably still sounded like a small herd of
elephants. I cringed at the clamour, hoping we didn't wake anyone
who thought ski vacationswere
for sleeping.

By the time we reached the ground floor, I was hot and
uncomfortable, making me all the more eager to greet the crisp
morning air.

My eyes lit up at the sight of the snow drifts that
rested just outside of the doors. Viola and I paused momentarily
to tighten our ski boots and collect our skis before hurrying out
into the pale, weak light of the rising sun as its pink and red
rays filtered between the irregular peaks.

For a moment, Viola and I simply stood ten feet from
the entrance of the overly luxurious hotel, reveling in the
presence of the impossibly high mountains of Whistler Blackcomb.
The bite of the air slowly crept through my many layers,
penetrating my skin with a welcome chill.

I shivered, hugging myself in the scarce warmth. "Ok,
let's get going before we freeze to death out here," I suggest,
setting my skis over my shoulder and clunking away before Viola
was able to respond, or drag me inside again.

Muttering to herself about how insane I was, she
followed me. Despite her constant stream of complaints, I knew
she'd have fun, and so she did. For tiresome hours, we
determinedly climbed to the peak of Blackcomb from our
on-the-slopes inn.

It took four hours to attain a perch the highest
skiable trail. Viola and I sat for a while on the frosty rock,
our breath escaping in short, fitful bursts of coffee-scented
moisture. The cold air quested across my cheeks, nose and chin
with frigid tendrils, even as the physical exertion warmed me to
the core.

After a quick, five minute break, I was on my feet and
ready to roll. Fresh, powdery snow had piled itself onto the
mountain overnight, leaving a beautifully serene landscape,
pocketed by old, weathered stones.

It looked just about as deadly as it did divine, the
slope steep, narrow and quick.

Perfect.

Viola let out a groan of frustration, hauling herself
to her feet. "Do youever
get tired?" she complained openly, peeking hesitantly over to
edge.

"Viola, you know the answer to that is no." I tell
her, feigning seriousness. "Now let's go, before someone else
catches up to us because we're lagging behind so much!"

I heard Viola mutter something about how no one else
is crazy enough to be up here anytime near now. Ignoring her, I
popped on my skis and balanced on the edge of the run, looking
over it with a marriage of excitement and apprehension. Nervous
excitement welled up within me. Quelling the desire to think, I
hopped off, bending my knees at precisely the correct moment to
land and absorb the shock of impact. An exhilarated exclamation
burst forth from my lungs and I let it fly, floating and ringing
in the bracing mountain air, proclaiming my excitement. It didn't
take much effort in this snow. The powder slowed you enough that
you didn't have to worry about controlling your speed, and only
enjoy the moment.

With an ease that overwhelmed me, I glided down the
narrow shoot. Time blurred and lost its meaning, becoming only a
mosaic of sensations-- the sound of snow folding beneath me,
physical exertion marrying with a mental challenge, intermittent
with joy, and elation. I don't know how long it was, but all too
soon, we had finished the intricate, empty hills, and people
began to weave and pop into view in front of me. I slid to a stop
at the start of a new run, waiting for Viola.

Seconds later, I found her by my side, looking quite
as pleased with the experience as I was.

"Nowthat
was fun," she declared frankly. I grinned back hugely, to aglow
with happiness to be sarcastic, or give her a told-you-so
response, as I might usually.

I simply nodded, not feeling the need to do anything
else in order to sum up my emotions. Without another word, we
skied down to the nearest ski lift, sliding into line. It wasn't
short, but it could've been worse, and I knew enough to be
thankful for that.

The line moved quickly, and soon Viola, two
snowboarders and I were on our way back up to the highest place
the lift could take you to.

We spent the majority of the ride in a tight silence,
occasionally punctuated by a remark on the flawless weather, or
how the snow was perfect for boarding.

Most people seemed to react this way to the pensive,
muffled atmosphere that frequently surrounded me. They found it
quite awkward, and difficult to sit through. I sighed, and sat
back, deciding to sit back and enjoy it, ignoring everyone
else.

~~~~ ♦ ~~~~ ♦ ~~~~ ♦ ~~~~

We had been skiing for four more hours by the time the oppressing
cloud cover above finally opened up and showered us with snow.
The flakes were swirling and dodging in seemingly random
directions as they were buffeted by the wind, they pelted my face
and clung to my eyelashes. My colourful jacket was soon
thoroughly disguised by hundreds of the sticky flakes, glittering
mildly in the flat lighting.

"Thank
you, Jack Frost," I whispered out of habit, smiling to myself. I
may be too old to believe, but that didn't stop the childish part
of me that had been buried in years from wanting to.

I
squinted ineffectively at the blank slopes below; trying
desperately to make out any depressions, divots or crevices
nestles in the mountain. The thick cloud cover made it impossible
to tell, and I sighed at my failure, sitting back. I resigned
myself to yet another ride up the lift.

By
the time we reached the top, we were surrounded by a full blown
blizzard. I could barely see anything, and all the colours and
shapes blurred and mixed.

Viola
and I established that despite the impossible whiteness that
obscured the world, we would attempt to master the short glade in
a patch of trees we'd discovered earlier that day.

The
trees were greatly shrouded by the flurries of snow, but thanks
to Viola and my many years of skiing, we were able to rely on
instincts and reflexes to get us through the run.

We
were about halfway down the glade, and I was only just starting
to settle into my rhythm when it happened. I heard a small, cut
off scream from behind me and I immediately slid to a ground
shuddering halt. "Viola?" I called into the pallidity. No
response. Only an ear shattering silence filled the air,
emphasizing Viola's absence. Even the howling wind seemed to have
ceased.

Concern
and fear started to prick me, and I popped off my skies, propping
them up against the nearest tree. With my arms out in front of me
as a precautionary measure, I fought my way up the hill. I
continued to call Viola's name, expecting to come across her at
any moment.

Finally,
I ran into a tree. I cursed and stepped to the side to continue
on, but I found my way blocked by another tree. I frowned. It
wasn't normal for two trees to be situated so closely together. I
squinted through the snow to where the other tree was, only to
find the air empty, apart from the constant fall of fluffy white
flakes. Surprise exploded within me.

Could
it possibly be the same tree that I'd just ran into?

I
shook my head at myself sternly.Trees don't
move,
I told myself firmly,Now pull yourself together and
find Viola.

Fear
that my friend may have fallen into a tree well and was now
suffocating drove any thoughts of moving trees securely from my
head. I stepped sideways again, determined to get around this
wretched tree, only to find my path once again blocked by the
tree.

The tree.

A
tree, I corrected myself. Trees don't move.

"Damn
it!" I mutter angrily, my brows creasing. Out of nowhere, a
gnarled, very alive branch swooped towards me out of the blank,
heaving mass of snow, looking as if the twigs were... reaching
for me.

I
ignored all thoughts that were screaming to me about how
unnatural this was, and zeroed in on one thing, and one thing
only: survival.

Taking
a deep, steadying breath, I waited until I was just out of the
branches reach, and suddenly ducked and rolled down the hill. My
worry for Viola was coming forth in frightening bursts. Had she
met the same fate I was so narrowly avoiding?

I
pushed such daunting thoughts from my mind. I halted into a
kneeling position, my hands grinding into ground. The snow
clouded my vision, making it extremely challenging to see just
about anything.

To
my relief, at that moment the snow began to slow... Revealing a
terrifying sight that I would forever remember, for it was the
moment that changed my life.

There
in front of me, was the tree, for I now had no choice but to
accept that it was the tree. It was moving towards me, it's long
roots snakelike as they crawled across the snow covered ground.
Clutched in it's overly long, skeletal branches was Viola,
slumped and unconscious.

I
froze in fear, and panic, knowing I could do nothing to help her.
"Viola!" I screamed, my voice infused with tension and
helplessness.

That
was the last thing I saw before the tree grasped me too. I felt a
small, aching prick in my arm and I passed out, leaving the world
dark, and unwelcoming.